


Bothersome

by Upupanyway



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Cage, Fluff and Smut, I'm Sorry, Lingerie, M/M, Playful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, They're just sweet boys being best friends and in love, and fucking, power play but only a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: Foggy is reviewing a manuscript for publishing when Matt comes home for the evening.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Bothersome

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the kinkiest I'll ever write and all sex scenes I ever write will be brimming with warmth. I literally dont know. I had the vivid image of Foggy doodling on Matt's skin and both of them looking absurd.

After a rather uneventful but exhausting night on the streets, filled with petty thievery and a few tips to the ambulances, Daredevil made his way home happy, as was becoming increasingly routine. It truly was amazing how much warmth one body can bring into a space, and shocking still how his barren apartment had been, for so long, lacking something that he now understood as essential.

Foggy was reclined on Matt's bed, as he often was these days, and Matt had yet to stop being grateful for it. Foggy shifted comfortably on the silk sheets as if he had every right to be there, and he did. The ink of a pen was wet and thick by his ear where he had perched it for safekeeping. He hummed to himself as he read, slicking his fingers with spittle before turning every page. His tongue darted past his lips every minute or so, and it made the hair of his mustache bristle, a welcome mat to the warm, homey entrance of his mouth.

His legs were splayed akimbo, settling at odd and comfortable angles with each other. He was in his underwear and a sleeveless cotton shirt, and the smell of his body oils filled the air with a familiar warmth, unsuppressed by his usual tweeds and wools and polyesters.

Matt made his way to him, flinging off his cowl and throwing it vaguely into his closet.

"Don't ask me to help look for that later," Foggy said, hardly looking up from his reading. He took his pen and scribbled something in the margins.

Matt pouted, unzipping his top and letting it fall to the floor. "But there are so many things in the wardrobe," he whined.

"You seem to do fine on your own.” Matt shifted into the bed, angling to kiss the other man, but the butt end of a pen met his forehead. “Shower first, you animal. Who knows what you’ve been getting into tonight.”

“I swear I never get into anything too awful,” he argued, but backed off anyway.

“I found you in a dumpster, Matthew. More than once.”

“Four times is not a lot of times,” he tried to say before hearing himself. It stood to reason that maybe some people go their entire lives without ending up in a dumpster even once. He lunged forth and stole a kiss anyway, landing a wet one right on Foggy’s supple cheek, where the facial hair tickled his lips. He went to shower, but he walked backwards out of the room, grinning dopily so that Foggy would see it. He heard Foggy chuckle at him before getting back to the paper in his hands.

“Bastard,” he said affectionately as Matt turned on the water.

When he got out, Foggy was on his stomach, resting on his elbows and twisting his pen between his fingers, swinging his legs lazily in the air. He was faced away from the door, and while his heart started beating in anticipation when Matt entered the room, damp and naked as the day he was born, he didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest.

“Foggy,” Matt said as he inched closer to the other man. When he was close enough, he reached out his hand to grab a handful of his favourite ass. “Oh?” he croaked, surprised at the texture he found. “Is this lace?”

“Mmhmm,” Foggy hummed. “Early Christmas gift from Kirsten. They’re red and white. Very festive. She said she had real gifts, too, and she’d laughed when she gave them to me, but it’s laundry day tomorrow, so here they are.”

“They’re nice.”

“Do you not like them?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re tugging them off.”

He hadn’t been doing it consciously, but the way the lace imprinted intricate shapes into Foggy’s skin was texturally fascinating and he found that he couldn’t quite take his hands away. “Am I?”

“Is that not the goal?” Foggy asked, lifting into Matt’s hand.

“I don’t know yet,” he answered, bemused. He moved his hand down further, hiking the lacey underwear down to the bend of Foggy’s soft thighs and massaging the laceprint skin. “What are you doing right now?”

Foggy didn’t moan when he could help it, but his breath caught a little when Matt thumbed between his cleft. Involuntarily, or casually, he spread his legs open.

“I’m editing a manuscript for Justice Chen. For the next  _ Law Quarterly _ . Riveting stuff, let me tell you.”

“Tell me.” He encouraged, shuffling down to kneel beside the bed and rest his cheek on Foggy’s. He took a deep sniff. He smelled like shaving creams and soap and arousal. It was the particular mix of scents that drove him wild.

“Well, it’s a piece on international laws and the limitations of current precedents set out for,” he paused to shiver when Matt licked him. “For migrants and refugees from the global south.”

He pushed off to breathe. “Keep talking,” Matt ordered. Lightly, he grabbed at Foggy’s ankles to keep them in place, under Foggy’s glorious hips, where his knees bent so wide that his caged cock grazed the sheets just slightly.

“She’s discussing, like, a million cases in this. It’s very thorough.”

“What are the important bits?”

“Your mouth is on them, buddy,” Foggy joked.

Matt, in turn, reached for the lube at his bedside and slicked his fingers. “Be serious. This is going to be published,” he chided, easing an index finger into Foggy.

“You’re the one with fingers in my ass, dude.”

“And you’ve clearly been waiting for me,” he countered, massaging Foggy open carefully. “A chastity cage? Real subtle.”

Aloof, Foggy shrugged and said, “It’s casual wear, Matty.”

“So you’ve been wearing all day?” he asked incredulously.

“Mmhm,” Foggy moaned when Matt hit his prostate, just a little, and just to be mean. Matt added another finger, perhaps too soon, but they were both eager.

“Eyes on the manuscript, Nelson,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” choked Foggy, turning his attention back to the paper and scrawling down more notes. Matt could tell he was trying in earnest to stay focussed, which simply would not do. Matt moved a little faster, and while Foggy kept his face towards the paper, he started bouncing his hips against Matt’s hand in small motions.

But still, he kept working in semi-silence as Matt added yet another finger, and eventually, his dick. Foggy had gasped, but he was in the middle of building what must have been a rather brilliant point, so the scratching pen noises didn’t stop.

“You can pay attention to me, now,” Matt told him, bucking his hips lazily into Foggy. They fit together so well that it often amazed Matt that they were two separate people altogether.

“I just have this conclusion to read.”

“Let’s see who finishes first, I guess.”

After a few more moments of heavy grunting and the teasing pen, Matt lost his patience and pulled out of Foggy to turn him around.

"What's up?" Foggy asked languidly, his head landing on the stack of binder-clipped pages.

"Where's the damn key to this thing?" frowned Matt, palming at Foggy's equipment to find some purchase.

"It’s your Christmas gift."

Matt wanted to complain. "That's ages away! Are you going to keep that on for two whole weeks?!" Matt despaired.

"More or less. I have my own key, but that's for showers and emergencies only."

"I want to blow you, Foggy," he pouted, and Foggy sat up and reached over to cup his chin and watch him appraisingly.

"Well no one's stopping you," Foggy said calmly.

"And I want you inside of me."

As a blessing, Foggy bent down to kiss his hair. Foggy was soft and gentle in everything he did, and it washed over Matt, a wave of comfort. He wanted that ease, that assurance as Foggy ripped into his mouth, his ass, he wanted to be owned and cared for all at once.

"Start with the first thing and we'll see where we get," he said, bringing his pen to Matt's temple to draw a small smiley face on it. "See? That's one point for being good. Get to ten and I'll let you ride me."

Matt gawked. "Exactly who's getting serviced here?" he squawked. Still, he brought his lips to Foggy, tasting the warm, bitter silicone and taking all of it in his mouth.

"The honourable Judge Chen, of course," Foggy said.

Matt groaned and tried to enjoy the way Foggy throbbed in his cage and the way his heart raced but it simply wasn't as satisfying as when he would stiffen for him and when he would become incomprehensible under Matts touch.

"Is this doing anything for you?" Matt asked, pulling away, and Foggy's precum left little ribbons to his mouth.

Foggy wiped it off for him and drew on him again, this time, a little flower at the base of his neck. Foggy leaned down to press a short kiss where the ink was still wet, and then another to his mouth. "Plenty."

Despite himself, Matt preened at the praise and reached around to play with the hem of Foggy's shirt, where it had ridden up to the small of his back. His skin was soft and luscious everywhere and the follicles of the tiny hairs stiffened and he could feel Foggy shiver everywhere, down to the tiniest parts of him.

"Not yet. One more paragraph," Foggy ordered. Obediently, Matt pulled away and folded his legs under himself, putting his hands on his lap and frowning deeply. He closed his eyes and waited as Foggy reclined to his side to leaf towards the last few pages. He scribbled something haphazard on the last page and chucked the work onto the bedside table.

"Okay," Foggy said, decisively, capping his pen and leaving it beside the manuscript. "Let me see you."

Wordlessly, Matt inched closer on his knees and reached for Foggy's shirt again, pulling it upwards and trailing kisses on his chest. Foggy's tickled giggles were gratifying and bubbly. Matt snuck up the neck hole to taste the sound on his tongue.

"Dork," laughed Foggy, pulling the shirt down to envelop the both of them. "Grade A, I swear it, Murdock."

"Then grade me." Matt reached over, grappling for the pen. He uncapped it behind Foggy's back, careful not to break their embrace, and then he brought it with him under the expansive tank top, which was by now so stretched out it was virtually unwearable between the both of them.

Laughing, Foggy took it from him and drew a large capital A on his forehead. "Perfect," he said.

"That's three points. I'm almost halfway there!" Matt rejoiced, helping Foggy out of the ruined shirt and nibbling into the skin at his neck.

"I'll give you another for being patient," he announced, taking a few moments to draw something more elaborate onto Matt's right bicep.

"What was that?" Matt asked, because puzzling out the shapes through its creation had been confusing.

"A pledge of eternal fealty," came the grave reply. "That looks surprising like a dick."

"Brilliant," Matt deadpanned.

"It's  _ avant-garde _ ."

"How?"

"It's foretelling your climax.  _ Avant _ the  _ garde _ ing of your beautiful cock as it comes for me."

"That’s not as poetic as you think it is," Matt laughed, pressing his lips onto Foggy’s skin again and again.

Foggy scoffed offhandedly and shuffled out of his underwear, smacking it across Matt's face lightly. "I am very intelligent, Matthew. Don’t doubt me."

Something in the tone and the scratchiness of the cheap lingerie stirred something in Matt and he whimpered. Foggy must have caught this because he grazed his nails along Matt’s back, which they had discovered sent an intoxicating, tingly heat throughout his body. Matt crowded him, boxing him between his steely abs and the wall. They kissed urgently and for long minutes. The pen had caught between their chests and some ink trailed it's way down his chest in jagged and haphazard lines.

"I guess that's point five," Foggy said, tracing a finger along the ink trail.

"Halfway already? Wow I'm really killing it," Matt observed, feeling smug.

In retaliation, Foggy wrapped his legs around him and guided Matt into him. He clenched and shifted his hips to engulf him, to make him gasp.

"What else do you want from me?" asked Matt as he bent low to kiss along Foggy's jaw. He licked, tongue wide and flat and hungry against the salty, sweaty skin there.

"Just keep fucking me," he ordered, and Matt obeyed.

They were vocal together. Embarrassingly so. Neither of them were known for their subtle presences, but the noises were something else, something holy and secret between them. Matt found that he could dance to the music they made together, primal and urgent. "Okay that's a point, for sure," Foggy said when Matt came into him. His breathing was evening out, if slowly, and from the exertion made him collapse landing with strengthless arms across the other man

"Just the one?" Matt protested limply as Foggy reached around their sheets for the cheap ballpoint.

"Just the one." And Matt earned a star on his ass cheek. Now, oversensitive from orgasm, he jerked at the touch, the decisiveness of the scratchy nib along his skin.

"Six. That's six."

He earned seven- a swooping v-shaped heart on his palm, and eight- a lopsided hexagon that was supposed to be a snowflake, in the quiet moments after his climax. He was getting old, after all, and he was tired from all the running and screaming and quipping he had been doing earlier in the evening.

"Now you're just doodling on me," Matt laughed, taking the pen from Foggy and twirling it in his fingers.

"Guilty," Foggy hummed absently, tracing shapes into his skin with his finger. "I like marking you, I guess."

Matt buzzed at the notion. "I like being marked by you," he smiled. Foggy met his mouth with a loose and tongue-filled kiss, slowly migrating down to his jaw, and even lower, to his neck and chest, where he bit and bit, leaving the skin puffy and raw.

One of the things Matt so loved about Foggy was that he was such a good listener, that he knew what Matt meant when he said things, without him having to explain himself. Foggy was a brilliant litigator, one who knew what it meant to read the spaces between sentences, to find the possibilities and logical suppositions nested in his words, but more than that, Matt was dear to Foggy, and over the years, he had found it worthwhile to learn  _ Matt _ . His twisted self was illogical, dense, and unriveting, but Foggy had put the work into studying him, anyway. 

And Matt liked to think that he understood Foggy, too. His unassuming but unrelenting conviction, his refusal to corrupt the powers bestowed upon him, his tendency towards indulgence in everything that didn’t matter and his ascetic self-denial in everything that did. Best of all, Matt liked to think he had access to a part of Foggy that no one else had ever been privileged to experience: he had Foggy’s attention, full and unbridled. At least, he did most of the time, or some of the time, and even just sometimes was enough for him. Foggy was the sun, the source of the kind of love that could kill or curse the unready man. Matt basked in that focussed unraveling Foggy could perform so easily in their intimacies, sexual or otherwise. Theirs was an old and familiar understanding, one forged from getting to know each other and the horrors and traumas it entailed. Matt loved that he was loved, not in spite of those horrors, but alongside them, with them, because Foggy knew him to be a product of these things, and he was loved wholly and unconditionally as he was. Matt was sufficient for Foggy.

Gingerly, Foggy took the pen from Matt’s hand and signed his name on Matt’s chest, right above his heart.

“There. All marked up,” Foggy said finally, shifting to rest on top of him.

Matt was giddy, he was lazy with love. He ran his fingers through Foggy’s hair, where his exertion lined his scalp, sweaty and warm from their lovemaking. “That’s still only nine. One more and I get your dick.”

“How do you have the energy?” Foggy bemoaned. Sighing, he reached around their entangled bodies, between the juncture of their mattress and their headboard, and produced a tiny key and placed it in Matt’s hand. “I’m trusting you with it.”

“That’s premature,” Matt grinned, turning them around. He had wanted it to be swooping and grand, but he missed by an inch and bumped Foggy’s head against the wall.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing at his head.

Matt tried to apologize, but his laughter got in the way. “Sorry, sorry,” he kept saying, Hugging Foggy close as if to shield him, though the injury had already been sustained.

“God, and I tried to be all sexy for you,” whined Foggy, laughing into Matt’s chest.

“You’re always sexy,” Matt assured him, kissing his face to make a point. “The manuscript was a great bit.”

“No, that was real. I wasn’t expecting you back so early.”

Gobsmacked, Matt struggled with this knowledge. “You were actually going to give this to Chen? Something you looked over while we…?” The horror overtook him, and he had the distinct impression of the office where Foggy will hand over the paper, smelling like their bodies and the same ink on Matt’s skin and he shivered. Chen would read it over, and email Foggy about it, and Matt would have to live with the knowledge that it will get published and Foggy, who will definitely be credited, would have been caged and whimpering when he was reviewing it.

“Well, it’s not like we got anything on it, right? What’s wrong with it? I made some good points between pages eleven and fourteen.”

“It’s just witnessed us fucking, for one,” Matt said, rolling off of Foggy. He found his cheeks growing increasingly hot and he rubbed at his face.

“It’s not like she’ll know,” squeaked Foggy.

“But I’ll know, Foggy. I’ll know.”

Foggy sighed at him and ruffled his hair. “You’re impossible,” he laughed, and Matt along with him.

“Still got another one in you?”

“Unlock me and find out, Murdock.”

Instead, he clutched at the tiny key in his hand even tighter. “No. You’ve got to earn it,” he said petulantly.

“You look stupid with all that ink on you,” Foggy countered, drawing a frowning face above Matt’s navel.

“That’s another 10 minutes, Nelson.”

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh also, if you're caging your cock, take every precaution. Make sure all equipment is comfortable and that you have easy access to things like keys and comfortable fabrics. Be sensible and dont cage yourself for super long periods of time. Read about safety before doing anything. Dont lose circulation. If anything starts hurting, please just take it out of its constraints
> 
> (i needed a fluffy break from a 50k word thing i've been writing i'm sorry it's been a while since i've last posted)
> 
> pronouns might be confusing maybe i'll edit later


End file.
